


This is the Star

by JustLikeTomo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Past Abuse, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12690048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLikeTomo/pseuds/JustLikeTomo
Summary: Harry doesn't know what it is about him, whether it's the bleached-blond hair, the golden skin, the blue eyes, or the freckles on his cheeks and shoulders. All Harry knows is that Louis Tomlinson shines brighter than everybody else, that there's something special about him, and that he wants to have him in his life.A story about two lost boys. Out of a world filled with people, like a sky full of stars, they find each other. Together, maybe they can make it through.





	This is the Star

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to dedicate this fic to my wonderful friends - Sophie, Sophia, Sara, Anna, Kat, and Manda - who have made my life so much brighter. Thank you so much. You keep me strong.
> 
> This fic in no way reflects on the real individuals it is based on.
> 
>  
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/harry_heunicorn/playlist/4e7VwzfbfDW7NWf20MkCe6?si=k2g9ZXsTSDC7WqEn47t5gQ)

 

galaxy

**ˈɡaləksi/**

_noun_

  1. a system of millions or billions of stars, together with gas and dust, held together by gravitational attraction.



 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

Harry is drenched and shivering when he steps into the Waterstones on Garrick Street, Covent Garden. It’s January and it’s miserable, and quite frankly so is he. He left his favourite book in his lecture hall an hour ago – a hard copy of Jane Eyre – and when he went back, it had gone. So now, wet and upset, Harry peruses the books on the towering shelves lining the walls of the shop. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, he just knows that the only way to make him feel better right now is the quiet atmosphere of a bookshop, the sound of pages being flicked through, and the smell of new books.

He’s only been standing at the Classics section for a few moments before he realises that he has absolutely no idea what book he wants to buy. All he knows is that he needs to purchase one so he doesn’t start crying, which at this point is a real possibility. He looks around in search of a sales consultant, hoping they’ll be able to help him out. He’s almost given up when a door beside the counter opens and a boy walks through, his head down as he carries a stack of books.

“Excuse me,” Harry says as he steps up to the counter. “I’m looking for-“

The boy looks up and Harry’s words seem to escape him. The boy’s eyes are _blue_. Not just an ordinary blue either, but a truly beautiful shade of blue, one that is incomparable. Harry feels like his heart stops beating for a second, only to pick up at double time.

“Looking for…?” the boy says, one curved eyebrow quirked.

“Um, a book.”

“In a bookshop? I never would have guessed.”

Harry frowns, but when he notices the smirk on the boy’s face and the amusement, he can’t help but grin. “Sorry. That was stupid.”

“People have asked stupider questions. I’m sure.”

“You’re sure?”

“Nah, I’m lying. Yours takes the cake.”

Harry looks down with a giggle, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“So,” the boy begins, “a book, huh? What kind of book?”

“I don’t know. What do you recommend?”

The boy’s eyes light up. “Any particular genre?”

“Nope. I like reading everything.”

“Okay, come with me,” he says, walking quickly over to the shelves, Harry tripping in his haste to follow.

“You’re very wet by the way,” the boy says. “Didn’t take an umbrella?”

Harry winces as his attention is brought back to the way his wet clothing rubs uncomfortably against his skin. “I forgot to check the weather this morning.”

The boy hums. “Not too bright, are you?”

“Hey,” Harry whines. “I’m just having a bad day.”

The boy stops at one of the shelves, Harry only narrowly avoiding bumping straight into him. He’s much smaller than Harry realized before, his head reaching to about Harry’s eye level. His hair is fine and wispy, dyed platinum blond. He looks up at Harry with a frown and Harry quickly snaps out of his trance.

“You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?”

“No, sorry,” Harry says, embarrassed.

The boy smirks. “How am I supposed to help you if you don’t pay attention?”

“I’m paying attention now!”

“Okay,” the boy says. “Feel free to say if you hate the sound of it, but this is one of my favourites.”

He leans down and carefully pulls a book off the shelf, brushing a hand reverently over the cover. Harry looks down at it and reads the title: _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,_ by Betty Smith.

“What’s it about?”

“It revolves around the life of this little girl called Francie Nolan in Brooklyn. It’s a coming-of-age, written at the beginning of the nineteenth century. It was given to a lot of the soldiers in one of the wars and became this massive success because it gave the American soldiers a piece of home. I’ve read it two or three times now and I’d really recommend it.”

Harry nods. “Okay, I’ll buy it.”

The boy laughs, a clear _ha-ha-ha_ that would sound stupid coming from anyone else. It’s abrasive, yet somehow melodic, and Harry is hopelessly charmed.

“Wow, you’re one of the easiest customers I’ve ever had. Comes into a bookshop and all he wants is any book I recommend. I wish I had more people like you come through the door.”

“Do you get a lot of bad customers?”

“No, not really. Most walk in and walk out again. It’s rare anyone asks for anything.”

“In that case, I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Oh no, it’s refreshing to actually talk to someone.”

Harry smiles shyly and tucks a loose curl behind his ear. The boy is grinning at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Harry really can’t believe how lovely he is. He looks so soft in his thick, grey, cable-knit jumper and skinny black jeans with the hole in one knee. Harry’s pretty sure it was made through real wear and tear, which he finds oddly endearing. His feet look impossibly small in a pair of all-black Vans and-

“Are you staring at my feet?” the boy asks with a laugh.

“Um, no?” Harry’s cheeks flame.

“Okay, weirdo. Do you want to pay for this now or look around some more? I’m happy to help.”

“’m not a weirdo, first of all,” Harry mumbles. “I think I’ll just pay. Student budget, y’know?”

The boy shakes his head. “Never went to uni. Wasn’t allowed to do what I wanted and didn’t see the point in doing anything else if I wasn’t passionate about it.”

“Sounds like the smart thing to do. No use spending nine grand a year for a degree you don’t want,” Harry says with a deep frown on his face.

“You don’t like the course you’re on?”

“Not really, no.”

The boy walks to the counter, looking over his shoulder to make sure Harry’s behind him. “So change to something else, or quit.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is.” The boy shrugs. “Are you in your first year?”

Harry nods.

“I’m sure I heard that at a lot of universities you can change after your first year without any problems from Student Finance. Everyone’s entitled to four years, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, look into it then, mate.”

The boy scans the book through and asks Harry for the standard price of £7.99. He could definitely get it cheaper online, but he thinks it’s important to support bookshops before they’re all forced to close down. 

“It was good to meet you-“ Harry says.

“Louis,” the boy says. “Shit, I’m not wearing my name badge again. My manager’s going to kill me.”

Harry winks. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

“I hope you enjoy your book, Curly.”

“It’s Harry actually.”

“Mm, suits you. Still think I’m gonna call you Curly though.”

Harry laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck again. “Okay, well I better go. I’ve got work soon.”

“Don’t get too wet.”

“Thanks.”

It’s strange, Harry thinks, the sense of loss he feels as he leaves the bookshop and steps out into the busy, rainy, London street. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to get Louis out of his head for days.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

“Alright, Liam?” Harry says as he walks behind the counter, tying his green apron around his waist.

“Yeah, mate. You?”

Harry nods. “Met someone today.”

“Oh?” Liam says. He steps behind the till when a customer approaches, plastering a fake smile on his face as he serves her. Harry can relate.

“Yeah,” Harry says, as he begins to make the woman’s stupid grande, iced, sugar-free, vanilla latte with soymilk. Seriously, who orders something like that? She must hate him. “In Waterstones.”

“Sounds like a meet cute.”

“He was so lovely, Liam, and he’s northern. You know I love northern accents.”

“Well, did you get his number?”

Harry frowns. “No. He was working. It didn’t seem appropriate.”

Harry hands the drink to the woman, watching as she takes a sip of it and tips her head side to side as if she’s contemplating it. If she asks him to do it again, Harry might just murder her. He’s all about treating people with kindness, but she’s taking the piss. Luckily, she nods and walks away.

“You didn’t even think about asking for it, did you?”

“No.” Harry sighs.

“Harry, you’re never going to get a date if you don’t get their number!”

“It would’ve been weird, Liam. He was _working.”_

“So, if he came in here while you were working and asked you out, you would say no?”

“Well, no. _No._ Of course not.”

“So?”

“So I’m an idiot.” Harry’s shoulders slump.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can just go back to the shop another day.”

“That wouldn’t be stalker-ish?”

“Not if you buy something.”

Harry gives a small smile and then starts wiping down the counter.

“You and Zayn are still going out tonight, right?” Liam asks.

“Yeah, Zayn’s buzzing.”

“I love Tuesdays.”

“Because you get to work with me?”

“No, stupid. Student nights at Ministry of Sound! £4 entry!”

“Liam, we’ve gone literally every week since we started this year. I know.”

“It’s just so great, y’know? It’s so close to you guys’ flat.”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

“We can just walk back whenever. No waiting for the bus at sketchy-o’clock. I mean, as long as I’m staying at yours. I can camp out on the sofa again, right?”

“Sure. I can’t promise the other guys won’t wake you up, but yeah.”

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

The air is heavy and thick inside the club, bodies pushing and swaying against each other, the bass loud enough that Harry can feel it in his chest. He follows behind Liam and Zayn who are weaving into the room to the left of the bar where the music is best. The strobe lights are casting a pink and purple glow over the dancers, the colour catching on the smoke and creating a beautiful haze.

Liam turns around once they reach the middle of the crowd and they all press close as they begin to dance, or in Harry’s case, jump up and down and sway side to side. Sweat quickly starts to bead on his skin and makes the small baby curls at the back of his neck stick to it, his shirt soaked through and clinging to his shoulder blades.

Harry is nicely drunk. Once Liam had arrived at the flat, Zayn pulled his bottle of tequila from beneath his desk and they’d sat in his room, passing the bottle back and forth as they talked. It didn’t take much for Harry to get drunk, but even less for Liam who now looks totally out of it with a dopey smile on his face, eyes closed and head bobbing from side to side. Zayn rolls his eyes when Harry looks over to him and continues moving with the music as if he’s one with the rolling crowd.

“It’s busy tonight!” Harry yells.

Zayn nods and takes hold of Harry’s hands, putting them on his hips. Harry laughs as they begin to dance together, Zayn’s hands smoothing up his chest until they wrap around his neck. Liam steps behind Zayn and presses against his back and grinds against him. It’s fun – all of it – and Harry feels some of the weight he’s been carrying around for months slip from his shoulders.

“It’s so hot in here!” Liam shouts over the music. “Aren’t you guys hot?”

“Sweltering, mate,” Harry replies.

“You wanna go to the bar?” Zayn asks. “The one outside.”

Harry and Liam nod. The three of them stumble from the room in a chain, Zayn leading, Liam grasping his shoulders, and Harry grasping Liam’s. They sway slightly as they get out to the small courtyard and giggle when a group of girls in heels nearly topple into them. Everything suddenly just seems really funny.

“Go grab a seat, I’ll be back with the drinks,” Liam says.

Harry and Zayn push their way through the crowd over to where they can see some room on one of the picnic benches.

“Hey, are you guys from Julian Markham?” one of the girls at the table says when they sit down.

Zayn looks at Harry with a brow raised and then turns back to the girls. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah, we’re on the seventh floor, which sucks because the lift never fucking works.”

Harry snorts. “We know. We’re on the third floor.”

“Well, arseholes, at least you don’t have to carry your food shopping up seven flights of stairs every time you go to Tesco.”

Harry shrugs. “Not our fault we got allocated a better flat.”

“What are you talking about?” Liam says when he puts down their beers and sits opposite.

“Um, sorry what was your name?” Harry asks the girl.

“Jessie.”

“Yeah, Jessie here is from our accommodation building and says she’s on the seventh floor.”

“Tough luck,” Liam says.

“Yep.”

Jessie turns back to her group of friends and the boys lean forward so they can hear each other better.

“Have you told Zayn about your meet cute yet?” Liam asks Harry.

“Oh god, he hasn’t shut up about the guy since he got home,” Zayn says.

“It’s _Louis,”_ Harry says.

“Did he tell you that he didn’t ask for his number?”

Harry face palms and says, “Will you please shut up about that? I know it was stupid. Okay. I _know._ Now I’ve lost him and we’ll never see each other again.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Always one for the dramatics, I swear. He literally works fifteen minutes away from campus. You can go and see him literally anytime.”

“Yeah, but he might think it’s weird if I show up again. I mean, I can’t just go up and talk to him. Can I?” Harry chews on the skin around his thumbnail.

“Yes you can. Just go in and say hi like a normal person. Thank him for the book or whatever. Tell him its good. God, just ask for another recommendation or something. It’s not like you’re asking him to bloody marry you.”

“All right, jeez. I just don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable or anything,” Harry says.

“Just got for it. You’ll only regret it if you don’t,” Liam says. “Tell him, Zayn.”

“You’ll regret it,” Zayn says.

Harry huffs and takes a long drink of his beer. “He’s really, really pretty. Like, I can’t even put into words how pretty he is. He’s got this almost pixie like face with these beautiful fucking cheekbones and blue eyes with long eyelashes and you should _see_ his jawline. He’s breathtaking.”

“Anything else?” Zayn says jokingly. He should know better than to ask that because as per usual, Harry can’t take a hint.

“Yes. He has this really beautiful hair. It’s all fine and whispy and it’s dyed platinum _blond._ I’ve never liked platinum blond hair or just blond hair in general, always been more attracted to a tall, dark and handsome, but it just _works._ He reminds me of a galaxy, y’know? It’s like he’s made of stardust.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Does the sun shine out of his arse too?”

Liam laughs loudly and folds his lips in when the girls turn to stare. “Sorry.”

“Look, I know you think it’s silly but I really like him.”

“We know,” Liam says. “You wanna go back inside now?”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs.

  

“One, two, three!” Liam shouts over the music. Him, Zayn, and Harry down their vodka shots, all coughing and spluttering at the burn at the backs of their throats.

“I will never enjoy vodka,” Harry croaks out.

“You drink enough of it, mate,” Liam says.

“That’s because I enjoy the after effects. It’s the drinking part I don’t like.”

Zayn grunts in affirmation and grabs hold of Liam’s shoulders to push him towards the exit. Harry follows behind.

“Where are we going?” Liam asks.

“You promised me, remember? One more drink and then we’d leave. It’s late and I’m knackered. Harry’s got an early lecture. It’s time to go.” Zayn says, his voice returning to normal the moment they’re back out on the narrow street.

Harry blows out a heavy breath and closes his eyes, his head spinning from the rush of cold, fresh air. “That feels nice.”

“I wanted to dance more,” Liam complains, pouting heavily as he glances between Zayn and Harry.

“I think you ought to go to sleep, Li,” Harry says. “You’re proper wasted right now.”

Liam stares at him blankly for a moment and then nods. “I am sleepy.”

“Right, let’s make a move then. This way Li. Follow me,” Zayn says, grabbing Liam’s forearm and guiding him onto the main road. Elephant and Castle is only a short walk – they’ll be home in fifteen minutes – but it is difficult steering Liam in the right direction.

Much to Zayn and Harry’s annoyance, Liam sings Rihanna’s _Work_ song the entire walk back and up the stairs into their flat. They push him onto the sofa in the living area and Harry grabs a blanket and pillow from his room while Zayn fills a glass of water and puts it on the coffee table. Liam is asleep the second his head hits the pillow.

“I’m gonna go for a smoke,” Zayn says, not bothering to look back as if he knew Harry would be following.

They lean against the blue brick wall of the building once they’re back outside again and Harry squints up at the black sky. He can’t see any stars in the sky because of the streetlights and for some reason it makes him feel a little bit homesick. It’s different in Holmes Chapel. There’s no skyline lit up, no blaring sirens at all times of night, no midnight trains, no drunken yelling outside your bedroom window. It’s different.

Harry turns to look down at Zayn when he lights his cigarette, letting his head loll onto his own shoulder. Suddenly he feels a lot more sober than he did just a moment before.

“Zayn-“

“Harry, mate, you know I love you but if you don’t shut up about this guy I will literally smother you in your sleep,” Zayn says.

“I’m not-“

“He was beautiful and soft and pretty – I get it.”

“Pass me that,” Harry says, wriggling his fingers at Zayn. “I want a drag.”

“You’re smoking now?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You know I have one every now and then.”

“Yeah, but usually when you’re depressed. Jesus, Harry, all you’ve got to do is go back to the shop.”

“It’s not him,” Harry says after he’s blown the smoke from his mouth.

Zayn sits down on the floor, his back against the wall. Harry sits down too.

“What’s wrong then, man? Come on, talk to me.”

“I just- I don’t know. I can’t pinpoint it.”

“Are you, like, actually depressed or something? Do you need to see someone?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing like that. Something just feels off.”

They sit in silence, passing the cigarette back and forth, then again once Zayn lights a second one. Harry loves Zayn. He’s a great listener, but more than that, he’s the kind of person that is happy to sit in silence with you while you sort out the mess in your head, happy to talk once you’re ready. Harry’s so glad he was allocated a flat with him this year, even if the other three guys are dickheads who steal all the cupboard space and never take the bins out.

“Nothing feels like I expected it to,” Harry says quietly.

“Uni?”

“Yeah. I mean, the partying is fun and living in London and meeting you guys. It’s just, I thought it’d be more, y’know? I thought I’d feel like I found my place in life, like I’d just _fit_ here, but something feels wrong.”

Zayn frowns deeply and lights another cigarette, this time just handing it off to Harry as if he knows he needs a crutch. “Are you homesick?”

“No.”

“Is it your course? Do you not want to do Law anymore?”

Harry blows smoke out of his nose and shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“So you’re having doubts.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s different to how I imagined it and it’s so damn _hard.”_

“It’s Law, mate. It was always going to be hard.”

“I thought it was my calling though, like I’d start and I’d be so happy because I’m living in _London_ and doing what I love and everything would be great, but it doesn’t feel like that at all.”

Zayn looks at him sympathetically and tugs on his curls until Harry drops his head to his shoulder. “It’ll get better. Just wait it out. Until then, go see this Louis bloke. Okay?”

Harry nods. “Okay.”

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

Harry can’t concentrate. It’s hard enough normally in his boring History of Law lecture, but with a beautiful boy on his mind, it feels impossible. He doesn’t know what it is, why he can’t get him out of his head. He doesn’t remember ever feeling so immediately infatuated with someone. Not with Jake, or Joshua, or Matty, or Kyle, who have all been massive disappointments.

Harry had never been with a man before he started uni – Jake was supposed to be his perfect first time, but really it had been stumbling and awkward, both of them new to it. Joshua and him had never gotten past a couple of sloppy hand jobs, Harry too uncomfortable to try full on sex for a second time. Matty had been a “dinner date,” by which Harry means that he was taken to Nando’s. Suffice to say, he hadn’t gotten a second date, especially after he’d ordered Harry the extra hot Peri Peri sauce and given him a bad stomach. Kyle was someone from his lectures that he’d been crushing on, but the moment they met, that crush was quashed because they guy was a freaking arsehole. After all that, Harry had given up. Now, Harry has an infatuation, one that is nagging at him and making him restless; Louis is potentially only a fifteen-minute walk away right now, whilst he’s stuck in this boring lecture, sat in the uncomfortable wooden pews of the Anatomy Lecture Theatre on the sixth floor of the Strand Building.

He wants to see him again is the thing. He can barely think of anything else. He’d spent last night lying awake in bed imagining their second meeting. It would be something movie worthy: they’d bump into each other in the street and Louis’ coffee would spill over Harry’s shirt, then Louis would be so apologetic that he’d offer to buy him a new one, which Harry would obviously politely decline, so then Louis takes him for coffee as an apology, then (cue music) they’ll talk for hours and fall madly in love and go back to Louis’ apartment to have brilliant, perfect, toe-curling sex. Well, something like that. Harry didn’t spend half the night thinking about it, no siree.

By the time the lecture has finished, Harry rushes down the six flight of stairs and starts walking to Covent Garden, past the Lyceum Theatre and up Wellington Street until he reaches the marketplace. He wishes he could say that he walks straight to Waterstones, but in reality it takes him half an hour before he works up the courage to step inside the bookshop. He walks around the marketplace in the bitter cold, his hands buried in the pockets of his winter coat, face pressed into the scarf around his neck. He’s just so _nervous._ It’s so silly because they don’t even know each other, but he is. Eventually though, once he’s frozen to the bone, he takes a step inside, releasing a breath of relief at the warm air that hits him.

“You okay there, Curly?” a soft voice asks. _His_ voice.

Harry walks over to where Louis is shelving books, a wide smile on his face, his heart trying to leap out of his chest. “Cold, but okay. How are you?”

Louis’ face splits into a grin. “I’m good, thanks. What brings you back here? Don’t tell me you’ve finished it already.”

Harry blushes, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Um, no, but I was hoping for another recommendation?”

“Is that a question?”

“N-no, I want a recommendation please.”

“Okay,” Louis says, quickly putting away the remaining three books in his arms. “How about we try a different genre today?”

“That sounds good,” Harry says.

“Do you have anything particular you want? You don’t have to give me free rein here.”

“No, I’m open to anything.”

Louis smirks, one of his curved eyebrows quirked. “You like giving me all the power, huh?”

“I mean you seem to like it, so…”

This time it’s Louis that blushes; Harry thinks it might just be one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. Louis coughs and then says, “Well, lets find you a book then and you can warm up.”

He walks Harry over to one of the tables running down the middle of the shop where some of the bestsellers are displayed. Harry looks down at them curiously and then back to Louis.

“So this one came out a little while ago and it’s a young adult fiction, but I really enjoyed it so I hope you will too.” Louis takes one of the books and hands it to Harry.

“ _Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe_. A philosophical read?”

“No,” Louis says. “It’s young adult fiction, remember? The story focuses on the lives of two young boys and their names are Aristotle and Dante.”

“Who would do that to their child?”

Louis laughs and wow, Harry has no idea how he could forget how wonderful that sounds. “I don’t know, but that’s not the point. It’s a really, really lovely book. Very heart warming. I think you’ll like it.”

Harry nods, a bright smile lighting up his face when he looks at Louis. “I’ll take it then.”

“You will?”

“I started reading _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_ before I went out last night and it’s been really good so far. I’ve decided to trust your judgment.”

“Well, thanks Curly, it’s an honour.”

“My name’s Harry.”

“Is it? I could have sworn you said it was Curly,” Louis teases, tugging on a loose curl.

Harry smiles again, his dimple deepening. “Well, it’s Harry.”

“Hm, I’ll remember that for the next time you pop in.”

“Who said I’ll be coming back?”

“Oh you will,” Louis says, smirking.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

Louis is right. Harry goes to the bookshop every day for the next two weeks. Most of the time Louis is there, but on the days that he’s not Harry drags his feet around the shop for a few minutes before leaving with a pout and a heavy heart.

“You know, you don’t have to buy a book everyday just to hang out with me,” Louis says when it officially meets the two week mark. “I thought you’re on a student budget? You’ve spent, what, eighty quid or something on books over the past couple of weeks. You can’t have read them all.”

“My shelves were empty. I don’t like empty shelves,” Harry says weakly.

Louis laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and tugs on Harry’s arm, pulling him towards the counter. “Look, how about you stay here with me for a little while? I get off in an hour and we can grab a coffee from that Starbucks around the corner.”

“Really?” Harry asks, a warm tingly feeling running down his spine.

“Yeah, of course,” Louis says, his eyes kind.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to. I like talking to you, Harry.”

Harry smiles, tugging on the bottom of his jacket. “Think that’s the first time you haven’t called me Curly.”

“Yeah, well, Harry fits too I suppose. Don’t get used to it though. I can easily demote you.”

Harry rolls his eyes and shoves lightly at Louis’ shoulder, his heart skipping a beat when Louis grasps hold of his wrist.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t want to spend time with you?” Louis asks.

“I dunno.” Harry shrugs. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“So you bought half the bookshop?” Louis laughs.

“Um, sort of.”

Louis shakes his head. “You could have asked on the first day if we could hang out and I would’ve said yes. I don’t exactly have an abundance of friends in London and I can mostly put up with you and your slow, boring stories.”

“Hey,” Harry whines. “They’re not boring.”

“No, they’re not.” Louis laughs. “Don’t worry, love. I’m just teasing.”

Harry feels warm all of a sudden at the pet name. He’s always loved pet names; they make him feel small and cared for. “I don’t want you to feel pressured to meet up with me if you don’t want to.”

“Harold, sit your arse down on that chair and read one of the ten books you’ve bought until I’ve finished.”

“I, um- I actually haven’t brought any of them with me.”

Louis looks at Harry gone out. “Are you serious?”

“I didn’t think I’d need one! I have lectures in the morning and then I usually go straight home after I’ve seen you.”

“Oh my god, just pick a book and put it back before we leave.”

Harry drags his feet as he walks over to the bookshelves. He stands there for a moment before he feels a tap on his shoulder. It’s Louis.

“Can you seriously not find a book without my help? Hopeless, Harold. You’re absolutely hopeless.”

“Well, you’re the _worst.”_

“Is that so?” Louis laughs.

“Yes.”

“You bought ten books just so that you could talk to me.”

Harry covers his face with his hands and groans loudly. “Shut up. No I didn’t.”

“I’m _amazing,_ just admit it.”

“You’re a hyperactive child, go away.”

“Read _Jane Eyre,_ you’ll love it.”

“It’s my favourite book actually,” Harry says, letting his hands drop.

“See, genius I am.”

“Oh my god, go back to work you menace.”

Louis’ eyes crinkle at the corners again and he walks away laughing. Harry watches him go and then turns back to the bookshelf, his smile almost splitting his face in two.

 

“So, Harold,” Louis says, blowing on his tea to cool it down. “Give me one fact about you that isn’t boring.”

Harry frowns. “That’s mean.”

“I didn’t mean you’re boring, you baby. I meant something interesting that’s not your favourite colour or how many siblings you have.”

“Um, I really like northern accents.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Louis says with a smirk.

“Yes, and very little people.”

Louis throws his teaspoon at Harry, hitting him smack in the forehead.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Harry says.

“Well don’t call me small then, oaf.”

“Hey, I’m not an oaf.”

“And I’m not small.”

“Okay, okay.” Harry laughs, his hands up in a placating gesture. “You’re tall. The tallest person I’ve ever seen.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Give me another fact.”

“I’m a Law student at King’s College.”

“Law, huh? Why did you choose that?”

“I don’t know. I just always wanted to do it, I guess.”

Louis nods, looking thoughtful. “I always wanted to be a drama teacher.”

“Really? That sounds great, Louis.”

“Yeah, my family didn’t think so. Instead, I have no degree and I’m working in a bookshop.”

“I think you’re doing pretty well. Bookshops seem like lovely places to work. It’s quiet, calm, and you’re surrounded by books all day.”

“Yeah. It gets boring after a while and the silence gets kind of stifling sometimes. I’d much rather be in a bookshop than work in a clothes shop though. I did that for the first year after I left home and it was hell. _Forever 21_ on Oxford Street is a fucking nightmare during the sales season.”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

“You work too, right?”

“Mhm. I work with my friend at the Starbucks on the Strand, just by campus.”

“Convenient,” Louis says before taking a sip, grimacing slightly at how hot it is. “Sounds stressful though. I know how it gets during rush hours.”

“God yes. It’s a freaking nightmare sometimes and people have such obnoxious drink orders. One woman the other day asked for a soymilk latte but with whipped cream.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Louis laughs.

“I’m not a violent person, but sometimes I want to strangle some of the customers.”

“Well, only a couple of years and you’ll be some big shot lawyer with a beautiful wife and 2.3 beautiful children.”

Harry snorts, coughing when some of his latte goes down the wrong way. “Gay.”

“What?”

“I’m gay, like, one-hundred percent gay.”

“Oh.” Louis blushes. “I, um, I didn’t know that.”

“Well I never exactly told you.”

“Yeah, but usually I’m better at reading people than that.”

“Because you’re… Are you?”

“Am I what?” Louis smirks.

“Gay.”

“Jesus Christ, Harold. Say gay one more time.”

“Gay.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yes, I am also gay. Farting rainbows and all that.”

Harry laughs, a loud barking thing that makes him slap a hand over his mouth in shock. Louis’ eyes go wide for just a moment before he’s suddenly in stitches, bent over with his arms wrapped around his waist as he laughs.

“Hey, it’s not that funny,” Harry whines.

“Do you know what sound you just made? Everyone was looking. Oh my god that was priceless.”

Harry folds his arms on the table and drops his head down until his face is hidden. “Shut up.”

“I can’t hear you, Curly.”

“I said, shut up,” Harry says louder.

“Come on, love,” Louis says, his hand resting on Harry’s shoulder and giving a small shake. “It’s cute. I was just surprised.”

Harry peers over his arms and sits up straight once he notices the warmth and fondness in Louis’ eyes. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay, really,” Louis says. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say.”

“Now, stop thinking about that and tell me something else.”

They go on like that for the next two hours, talking back and forth, buying drink after drink despite how expensive they are. Harry is enraptured with Louis, with the way he tells stories, the way his eyes crinkle when he’s talking about the things that make him happy, with the way he waves his hands around, with the way he really _listens_ to Harry and lets him finish his sentences. Infatuation is really the only word that fits the way Harry is feeling and even that isn’t quite enough. He knows he’s staring at Louis with hearts in his eyes, but he can’t help it. He really, really can’t.

“Love, I ought to go in a minute. It’s probably getting dark soon,” Louis says.

Harry pulls his phone out and looks at the time. It’s nearing four o’clock. “Wow, sorry. I didn’t realise it had gotten so late. I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“Hey, no. It’s no bother. I’ve been having a nice time.”

“Me too,” Harry says, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Do you live close by?”

Harry nods. “Elephant and Castle, not too far from the crappy shopping centre on the roundabout.”

“Hey, we can get the bus together. I live in Peckham.”

“I usually walk,” Harry says. “But I guess I can make an exception.”

“That must take, what, forty minutes? Forty five? You walk that everyday?”

“Yeah, it keeps me fit and I like the fresh air.”

“Don’t tell me you’re also the kind of person to eat salad and drink kale smoothies. Please.”

“Look, kale is actually quite nice. It gets such a bad reputation and I don’t think that’s fair.”

Louis grimaces. “Just when I thought we really had something special. Please at least tell me you’re not a vegan because I like meat, okay? I like sausage and steak and burgers and anything juicy.”

Harry laughs. “No, I’m not a vegan. I thought we’d already established that you like sausage.”

Louis covers his face with his hands and peers at Harry through the gaps between his fingers. “That was awful. You’re awful. Please stop looking so proud of yourself.”

“You loved it and you love me.”

Louis smirks. “I mean, you’re not wrong. I do like sausage.”

Harry cackles, reaching across the table to pull Louis hands from his face. “I’m hilarious.”

“Yeah, okay,” Louis says. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They walk back to the Strand together and hop on the next bus heading to Elephant and Castle. They talk animatedly the whole way, pressed together down their sides, faces close together. All Harry can think about is how _easy_ it all is. It shouldn’t be this easy. They met two weeks ago, they’ve only spoken a handful of times, but it’s like he’s known this boy forever, like he’s just been waiting for him. His thoughts are all very cliché but he doesn’t care because it’s how he feels. It’s the truth.

They exchange numbers when they get off at Harry’s stop and Harry waves goodbye sadly to Louis, who has to wait now for the next bus to take him to Peckham. He’s barely got inside his apartment before his phone beeps.

**Louis :) : I miss you already :P**

He goes to sleep with a smile on his face that night, phone in hand.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

Harry and Louis fall into a sort of routine over the next two weeks. Louis spends his lunch breaks in Starbucks whenever Harry is working, and Harry continues to spend time in the bookshop after his lectures, sometimes sitting behind the counter with Louis to do some reading for his classes. Well, he had been doing that until Louis’ boss had come downstairs and caught him. Apparently it isn’t appropriate to use the bookshop as a place to “hang out”; he continues to stay with Louis anyway, just on the correct side of the counter.

Harry can’t believe how well they get along. He can’t believe they’ve known each other for such a short period of time. His infatuation, which he had hoped would lessen over time, is only growing. What he feels is bordering on obsession, quite frankly. He thinks about him all the time: when he gets up, when he’s making a meal, when he’s in a lecture, when he’s working, when he’s trying to fall asleep, and even when he’s stood in front of him. It’s a real problem, but one he has no plans of correcting. He _likes_ the way he feels about Louis. It feels good, if not sometimes torturing. He’d give anything to spend time with him, to smell the slight hint of vanilla that seems to come from his skin, to listen to his high, melodic voice, to see the way his blue eyes sparkle, the way he throws his arms around when he gets particularly passionate about something, and even the way he keeps putting his hand up when Harry’s working, only to say that Harry looks nice in his apron every time Harry walks over to see what he wants.

It’s been two weeks, but Harry feels like he’s known Louis for years, _wants_ to know him for years to come. Louis is special and his mum has always told him to keep the things precious to you close. Harry has no plans of letting go.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

“So, um, it’s my birthday next Tuesday,” Harry mumbles, tapping his pen staccato on the notepad in front of him.

“Okay…” Louis laughs over the phone.

“Me and a couple of friends are gonna head to Ministry of Sound for the student night. Nothing major, just a fun night I hope.”

“Sounds like a plan, Curly.” Harry can hear Louis’ smile in his voice and it makes his nerves settle.

“Do you wanna come?”

“To student night?” Louis asks. “I’m not a student.”

“You can still come, you just won’t get in cheap like us. I mean, if you don’t want to come that’s fine. I don’t want you to have to pay full price to go to a club if you don’t want to. Obviously.”

Louis laughs again and by now Harry can picture exactly the way Louis looks, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, his whole face lit up and glowing with amusement. “You don’t need to be so worried, love. Of course I’ll come.”

Harry blows out a heavy breath. “You will?”

“Yeah, it’s your birthday. I’d love to see you.”

“We’re gonna pre-drink at the flat at nine and then head out.”

“That’s fine, love.”

“You can bring someone if you want. You know, a friend or boyfriend or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Louis says. Harry can practically hear him smirking. “So eloquent, young Harold.”

“Look, are you bringing someone or not?” Harry huffs, trying his best to hide his smile behind his hand, despite the fact there’s no one to see him anyway.

“My mate Niall might be interested. He’s a real laugh, Irish, drinks like a fish.”

Harry laughs. “Sounds great, Lou. You know where I live, right?”

“Julian Markham: the blue building above the Chinese.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. If I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you Tuesday, baby cakes.”

“See you then, sweet cheeks.” Harry giggles.

“Bye, Curly.”

 

“So, Niall will be here in like a half hour. The idiot got halfway here and then realised he’d left his wallet at home,” Louis says once Harry has let him into the building.

“How did he even-“

“He keeps his oyster card in his back pocket. I know it’s stupid. He’s broken it so many times I’ve lost count now because he always sits on his arse and snaps it.”

Harry laughs, turning left once they reach the third floor and leads him down to their flat.

“Hey, Curly,” Louis says.

“Mm?”

“Can we go to your room or something first? I’ve got a present for you in here,” Louis says, lifting the Tesco bag that Harry had presumed just held his alcohol.

“Lou, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

Harry nods. “Okay.”

He feels a little paranoid as he opens his bedroom door, worried he’s left his bed unmade, or there’s lube on the bedside table, or dirty pants on the floor, or his journal open on the desk. Luckily, everything is in its proper place and looks as clean as ever.

“What’s this?” Louis asks as he pushes past Harry to the desk that stretches the length of the far wall. He picks up the little bottle of baby pink nail varnish and turns to Harry with a smile.

“I, um,” Harry stutters.

“It’s okay, babe. You like painting your nails?”

“I just really don’t like feet.” Harry shrugs. “So I paint my toenails to make them look prettier. I know it’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” Louis says. “I think it’s a great idea. Maybe you can do mine some time.”

“Really?” Harry asks, his face lighting up.

“Yeah.” Louis laughs, looking fondly at Harry. “I wish I’d known about this before; I could have bought you so many new colours for your birthday. Oh, and happy birthday by the way. Nineteen suits you.”

“Thanks,” Harry says bashfully. “You really didn’t need to get me anything, Lou. I’m just glad you came.”

“You’re such a sap. Come on, sit down so I can give you your present.”

Harry does as he’s told, smiling privately as Louis reaches down to pull out the small gift. It’s wrapped in shiny dark blue paper covered in lots of tiny silver stars, just like the Milky Way. It has a thin silver ribbon on it and Harry traces his fingers over it once the present is in his hands. It feels heavy and hard, just like a book.

“I didn’t wrap it myself. I’m shit at that sort of thing,” Louis says.

“Who did it then?”

“Niall. He is good for some things.”

Harry laughs, running his fingertips down the sides.

“Go on then, dummy. Open it,” Louis says, sitting beside Harry on the bed with his hands clasped together. He looks nervous and Harry is hopelessly endeared.

Harry is meticulous as he unwraps the gift, the paper coming away without being torn. He gasps when he sees what book it is. It’s one of Waterstones’ hardback gift books, a beautifully covered copy of _Jane Eyre._ Harry almost wants to tear up at the thoughtfulness of the gift. He turns to Louis with a smile on his face, reaching over to touch Louis’ cold hands. “Thank you.”

Louis shrugs, his cheeks flushing a little. “That day we met, you looked so sad and I know it’s because you lost your copy and it was your favourite. I know this isn’t the same, but I thought you might like it anyway. Sorry if it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb.” Harry shakes his head. “It’s lovely, Lou. Thank you so much.”

Louis rolls his eyes and shoves Harry so lightly that he doesn’t even budge at the movement. “Come on, let’s go to the living area. Your friends are here, yeah? I don’t wanna be rude.”

“Okay,” Harry says. He places the book very carefully on his bedside table and gets to his feet.

“There you are, H,” Zayn says as Harry and Louis enter the room.

“We thought you’d left us for your new friend.”

Louis puts his bag of drinks on the coffee table and puts his hands up. “I wouldn’t dare, fellas.”

Zayn and Liam smile up at him, shuffling along the black leather sofa until there’s room for him to sit beside them.

“I’m Zayn and this is Liam,” Zayn says.

“Nice to meet you,” Louis replies, shaking both their hands. “I’m Louis.”

“Oh, we know.” Zayn says, laughing. “Birthday boy here never shuts up about you.”

“Hey,” Harry protests, his face flaming.

“It’s all right, love,” Louis says, looking up at him with a smirk. “I know you’re obsessed with me.”

Harry sits on the floor by the coffee table with a frown on his face, mumbling, “Not obsessed.”

Louis’ phone starts ringing and a few minutes later Harry is walking back into the flat with a very excitable Niall Horan. The boy walks over to Zayn and Liam pulling them both into hugs as if he’s known them for years, then dives on Louis until they fall back against the back of the sofa, almost kicking the coffee table over in the process. Harry smiles widely, his eyes bugging out a little in shock.

“What are we drinking then, boys?” Niall asks as he settles on the floor beside Harry. “What did you bring for us, Lou?”

“Vodka and Jack Daniels. You can all drink as much as you like. I didn’t bring any coke or lemonade though.”

“That’s fine, we have some here,” Zayn says.

“You sure it’s okay for us to share, Lou?” Harry asks.

“I brought it for you guys, so yeah, of course.”

“You’re not drinking?” Harry asks with a frown.

“Louis here doesn’t drink,” Niall says with a dramatic sigh. “So sad, so much time wasted being not wasted, but unfortunately it’s the truth.”

“How come?” Harry asks.

Louis shakes his head with a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll tell you about it later, babe.”

“Aw, _babe,”_ Niall says. “Why don’t you ever call me that, Louis? Am I not special enough? Do I need curly hair and green eyes?”

Louis laughs, but there’s a definite flush on his cheeks to match Harry’s. Harry looks over to Liam and Zayn, blushing even more when they smile knowingly at him. _Shut up,_ he mouths to them.

 

Harry doesn’t get as drunk as he usually does, but Zayn, Liam and Niall are on their way to full on smashed. Harry and Louis laugh as they guide them through the club, their arms linked so they don’t get separated. He has a light buzz, enough to make him let loose and have fun, but not enough to lose his inhibitions.

They reach a small gap in the middle of the dancers and watch with amusement as Niall starts dancing wildly, arms and legs flying everywhere much to the annoyance of those around them. Zayn is dancing with his back to Liam’s chest and Harry and Louis are just staring at each other with wide eyes and even wider smiles.

“This feels a lot different when I’m not drunk!” Harry yells with a laugh.

“Yep!” Louis shouts back. “Come here.”

Harry’s heart rate spikes as Louis puts his hands on his hips and tugs him forward. Harry loops his arms around Louis’ neck and they start dancing with the others, bodies pressed tightly together and eyes locked on each other. It’s fun and Harry feels so happy he could burst, laughing when Niall hits him in the head.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Harry says into Louis’ neck. “I like being your friend.”

“I like it too, Curly.”

 

“You’re not going home alone, Louis,” Harry argues when they get back to his building.

“Of course I am. How else am I supposed to get home?” Louis laughs.

“Look, Niall is staying here. You could too.”

“There’s not room for me, babe. I’ll be fine.”

“No, Lou,” Harry says, gripping Louis by the shoulders. “There’s so many crazies on the bus. Stay here.”

“No, Harry.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“You’re going to come with me all the way to Peckham and then what? Take the bus home by yourself. No way.”

“Louis, you literally just said I can’t go home on the bus alone, but I’m supposed to let you.”

“Yes! I’m older than you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re twenty-one.”

“Still older.” Louis sticks out his tongue.

“Either you’re staying here or I’m coming with you. There’s no alternative.”

Louis glares at Harry for a moment before he’s rolling his eyes too. “You’re so fucking stubborn.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, all right. Keep your wig on.”

“So what’s the verdict?”

“How about you come home with me and stay the night?”

“Are you propositioning me, Louis Tomlinson?” Harry giggles.

“No, you idiot. You can take the sofa.”

Harry sighs dramatically. “Okay, I guess I can manage that. I’ll just call the boys and tell them.”

Louis looks around. “Oh, they already went upstairs.”

“Probably got bored of you being an arse.”

“Hey, I was not! You were!”

 

“So, um,” Louis starts, fiddling with his keys nervously. “My flat isn’t much. It’s, well it’s pretty shit. So just, don’t judge too hard?”

“Lou,” Harry says. “I promise I won’t. You’re twenty-one and you have your own flat in London. You should be proud of that even if it is a little run down or whatever.”

Louis nods and unlocks the door, opening it with what seems like bated breath. Harry steps into the room behind him and looks around at the almost empty space. The floor is nothing by exposed floorboards, the walls white and sparse, the only furniture an old, floral sofa and a coffee table that’s covered in books and what looks like a dying plant. There’s a couple of deck chairs folded against one wall, their blue stripes giving the room a tiny bit of colour.

In the corner is a kitchen. By that Harry means that there is an oven, two counters, two cupboards, a sink, a tiny fridge, and a microwave. It takes up no more than two metres of space. Harry thought his kitchen in Julian Markham was pretty small, but Louis’ is about a third of the size.

When Harry turns to look at Louis he sees the anxiety in his eyes, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip.

“It’s great, Lou,” Harry says with a small smile.

Louis sighs heavily and stares down at his feet. “It’s really not. It’s so fucking cold in here in the winter because the window doesn’t close all the way and the floorboards are drafty, but it’s a place to live. The bathroom doesn’t have any mold and my bedroom is actually pretty okay.”

“Lets see that then,” Harry says.

“Okay.” Louis nods.

He’s right. The bedroom feels lived in in a way that the other room didn’t. There’s no bed, only a mattress on the floor, but it’s covered in a white duvet with stitched in red roses that Harry thinks is beautiful. There’s a small table beside the mattress that’s covered in books and scented candles and knickknacks – Harry can smell the strawberry and vanilla scent clearly and it makes him smile. Instead of a wardrobe, Louis has a simple silver clothing rack like one from a clothes shop, the rest of his clothes in a large pile in the corner. There are thin red curtains closed over the window, so thin that the lights from outside illuminate the room in a hazy, dark orange glow. His favourite part of the whole room though is the fairy lights that Louis has strung up around the entire room, hanging from the top of the walls in small dips. Louis must obviously notice him looking because he switches them on and the room lights up, a dim golden glow that seems almost romantic.

“This is really lovely, Lou,” Harry says quietly.

“You think?”

“Yeah. I really, really do.”

“You can sleep in here if you want to; it’s much comfier. I’ll take the sofa.”

“We could-“

“What?” Louis frowns.

“We could just share? I mean, obviously not if you don’t feel comfortable, but I wouldn’t mind. It’s only sharing a bed, right?”

Louis looks at Harry with a small smile and nods. “Okay. Do you want a glass of water or do you just want to sleep? I have some sweatpants and a top you can wear somewhere in that mess,” Louis says, pointing in the corner.

Harry laughs. “I’m just gonna go to the loo quickly.”

“Sure. Here, take these and you can get changed in there. I’ll grab us a blanket to go over the duvet. Sometimes it’s too cold without one.”

Harry nods and takes the proffered clothes with a thank you.

When he gets back into Louis’ bedroom, he shuts the door softly behind him and lies down carefully beside Louis on the mattress. He has his glasses on and is scrolling through something on his phone.

“Do you wear contacts most of the time? Or do you only need your glasses for reading?”

“Mostly just for when I’m reading, but sometimes my eyes get tired and it’s more comfortable to put my glasses on.”

Harry nods and snuggles down beneath the duvet and the red fleece blanket. It’s cozy and Harry can already feel his eyes drooping.

“You tired, babe?” Louis asks.

“Mhm.”

“I’ll turn the lights off. Close you eyes. Go to sleep.”

“See y’ in the morning,’” Harry slurs.

The last thing he hears is Louis’ quiet laughter.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

Weeks turn to months and Harry and Louis find themselves slotting perfectly into each other’s lives like puzzle pieces. Something about them just _fits._ When Louis isn’t working, he’s at Starbucks with Harry or in his flat, either with Harry or on the phone to Harry. When Harry isn’t in his lectures or working, he’s at the bookshop with Louis, or at Louis’ flat, or on the phone to Louis. And so it goes.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

“Hey, H, your boy is here,” Liam says when Harry comes back from the bathroom.

Harry’s eyes scan the room and he grins widely when he spots Louis sat at one of the small tables along the wall of the coffee shop. He looks beautiful and so, so soft in a white sweater with glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His hair is flat today, his fringe poking out from beneath his grey beanie. Harry wants to cuddle him so badly.

“Do you mind if I go speak to him for a minute?” he asks.

“Of course, man. It’s not busy.”

Louis waves as Harry walks over, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says when Harry sits down.

“On your lunch break?”

“Nah, I’m not working today. Just wanted out of the flat. Thought I’d bring a book and keep you company. Maybe we can go for something to eat after you finish?”

“Like a date?” Harry asks. “A friend date… thing.”

“A friend date thing?” Louis laughs. “Sure.”

Harry rubs at the back of his neck, his cheeks hot with embarrassment. “What are you reading?”

“Um, _The Unbearable Lightness of Being._ ”

“I’ve heard of that. What’s it about?”

“Well, it’s pretty philosophical. It’s largely about love and sex, the ways love can manifest and the complexity of it. The characters are searching for a _something_ in life, y’know, where they really feel happy and like they’re _living._ I don’t really know how to explain it, but it’s very poetic and also pretty frank in the sense that it doesn’t necessarily romanticise love.”

“You like it?” Harry asks, resting his chin in the palm of one hand. He could listen to Louis talk all day. The way his mind works is fascinating to Harry.

“Yeah, I do. I’ve had it on my ‘to read’ list for a while, so I’m glad it’s not disappointing me.”

“Can I read it after you?”

“Of course.” Louis beams, as if he’s immensely pleased that Harry is taking a real interest in what Louis so clearly loves.

“I don’t have much time what with work and studying, but since I don’t give a shit about this degree anyway, I’m sure I can make some time.”

“Hey,” Louis says, frowning as he reaches across to tuck a stray curl behind Harry’s ear, “don’t give up. You’re going to make an awesome lawyer someday.”

Harry looks down. “No ‘m not. I don’t even want to be.”

“Babe, I really think you need to talk to someone at uni about this. If it’s making you this unhappy and you really don’t want this then you’ve gotta do something before it’s too late.”

“I’ve spent years wanting to be a lawyer. I don’t know what else to do,” Harry says, his eyes filling with tears.

“Oh, love, come here.” Louis tugs on Harry’s hand until he gets up and sits on the seat beside him. He wraps an arm around him and presses a kiss to his forehead. “You can do anything you want. What do you like? What makes you happy?”

“You.”

“A degree in Louis Tomlinson.” Louis laughs. “I like it.”

“It’s true. You make me the happiest, Lou.”

“You make me happy too,” Louis says, holding him tighter.

Harry closes his eyes and for a moment he just lets go, focuses on nothing but the safety of being in Louis’ arms. Unfortunately he only has a couple of minutes before Louis squeezes his shoulder, whispering, “Love, there’s a bit of a queue. I think Liam might need some help if the flapping he’s doing with his arms is any indication.”

Harry snorts, but reluctantly moves out of Louis’ arms and gets to his feet. “You’re staying until I finish?”

“Of course. We’ve got our friend date thingy remember?” He winks.

Harry rolls his eyes. “How could I forget?”

“Get back to work. I’ll be right here if you need me,” Louis says, blowing Harry a kiss.

Harry catches the kiss and puts it in his back pocket, grinning widely at Louis when he starts laughing.

“Get going before Liam has an aneurism.”

“Love you, Lou.”

“Love you too.”

Harry can’t stop smiling for the rest of his shift.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

A week later, Harry can’t find the willpower to smile. He goes home in a couple of days, back to Holmes Chapel. His lectures have finished for the year; all he has left to do are his final assignments and his exams. He feels _horrible._

Of course, Louis has only just stepped inside the coffee shop before he notices that Harry, who usually beams and practically jumps up and down with his tail wagging when he sees Louis, looks miserable. He walks straight up to the counter with a frown on his face and Harry hates it, he hates that his efforts to hide his low mood don’t work on him.

“What’s wrong, love?” Louis asks.

“Nothing,” Harry says, shaking his head. “What kind of tea do you want today? You liked the raspberry, right?”

“Sure. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Harry concentrates hard on writing Louis’ order and name on the paper cup before passing it to the other barista and ringing him up. “That’ll be £2.45 please.”

_“Harry.”_

“Please don’t, Louis,” Harry says quietly, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Hey, come on,” Louis says. “It’s just me. You can tell me.”

“I have my break in fifteen. Can you wait until then?”

Louis nods, his expression worried and sad. “Okay, but if you don’t come straight over here, I’m coming to find you. I’ll walk into the staffroom. I don’t care.”

“Promise.”

“Okay, love. I’ll be sat in the usual spot.”

Harry goes through the motions, smiling at the customers that come in before his fifteen minutes are up, and then he walks over to Louis with his head down and sits opposite. Louis immediately reaches across the table and takes hold of Harry’s hands, squeezing lightly.

“Why do you look so sad, huh? What’s happened?”

Harry shrugs, inhaling a shivering breath. “Nothing.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No, Louis. Really. _Nothing_ has happened. Absolutely nothing.”

“And that’s what’s got you so upset?”

“I don’t know. It’s just- classes are finished, you know? My first year is basically over and I still _hate_ it. I thought it’d get better as the year went on but it hasn’t and now the year is almost over and I’ve got to do this for the rest of my life.”

Louis takes a deep breath and squeezes Harry’s hands again. “You finish work at three today?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I wanna take you somewhere.”

Harry looks at Louis with his brows furrowed. “Where?”

“You’ll see.”

 

“Wow,” Harry says.

It’s evening by the time they reach the top of the hill of Hampstead Heath Park, the city of London sprawling out beneath and stretching onwards as far as the eye can see. The wind is strong, the air cool, and Harry’s eyes are streaming from that and what feels like his world crashing down around him. Sometimes a shit day can feel really, really shit. Sometimes it’s difficult to cope with even the simplest of things. But then sometimes a beautiful boy takes your hand and that tightness in your chest loosens a bit and you can breathe just a little easier.

They sit on one of the benches, Harry wincing as the slight damp of the bench seeps through the fabric of his thinning black jeans. It’s a beautiful evening, the sun going down and the sky made of soft orange and pink hues. Louis pulls out two cans of the beer they picked up before they’d caught the tube down to Hampstead and hands Harry one before opening his own and taking a sip.

“I thought you didn’t drink?” Harry asks.

“I don’t always, but sometimes it’s nice.”

“You never told me why you don’t.”

Louis sighs. “I’m not a happy drunk. I get sad and maudlin and I’m no fun to be around. Usually when I’m drinking, I’m drinking to forget.”

“Do you want to forget right now?”

“No, but I think I’m going to be telling you some stuff this evening that’s going to make me want to later.”

“What are you going to tell me?”

“We’re going to do truths. You tell me a truth and I tell you one. I don’t mean basic stuff. I mean deep stuff. I want to know the things that hurt you, the things that make you afraid. I want you to unload because that’s the only way you’re going to feel better.”

Harry looks down at his lap and takes a deep breath. “Okay, Lou. You go first.”

“What’s the worst memory you have as a kid?”

"Oh, straight for the heart, huh?"

"Come on, love. Play the game."

“Um, the day my dad left I suppose. I mean, it’s not like we didn’t still see each other, but it was less, y’know? We’d go weeks sometimes without talking and as a kid that was like losing a limb. You grow up thinking your family is a sure thing, that it’s forever, and then one day one of the people who matter most leave and you’re left wondering why you weren’t enough to make them stay.”

“Do you still talk now?”

Harry releases a heavy breath. “Yeah, we do. I’m not that close to him though, not like I am with my mum. I was so upset and angry at the time and I don’t think we’ve ever really recovered our relationship since then.”

“I get that. It’s sad, but I get it.”

“What about you? What’s your worst memory as a kid?”

Louis takes a long drink of his beer and then places it by his feet. Harry watches worriedly as Louis’ hands clench into fists and he stares straight ahead, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “I’ve never told anyone about this. So you’ve got to promise to never tell anyone. Okay?”

“Of course, Lou.”

Louis laughs and it’s a horrible sound, no trace of happiness to be found. “I don’t even know how to say it, but I want to.”

“You don’t have to. You never have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I do want to though. I want you to know me because I really like you. You know that, right? You know how much I like you?” Louis says, turning to look at Harry with slightly crazed eyes.

Harry nods his head. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He wants to reach out to Louis but for some reason it seems imperative that he gives him his space. Whatever he’s about to say is big. Harry can tell that much. He’s afraid of what he’s about to be told, afraid that whatever it is will be the answer to why sometimes when he thinks no one is looking, Louis’ face falls and his eyes go flat and he looks so empty it’s like all the light in the world has drained away.

“My dad left before I was born,” Louis begins, his voice dead, “and that’s fine. That’s something I got over a long time ago. I never felt like I was missing out on anything because my mum has always been more than enough. Then she met a guy and he moved in and they got married. It was fine for the first year or so, but then my sister Lottie was born and things got pretty bad. He, um, started hitting me. Just a little at first, but it kept getting worse. My mum found out, but I think she was scared of him too, so she just- well she just did nothing. It’s not like she ignored it. She’d always come to my room after when I’d gotten into bed to wait for the pain to ebb a little.” He laughs and it’s wet and filled with the pain of freshly opened wounds. “She’d sit on the edge of my bed, rub my back and sing _When You Wish Upon a Star_ to me – the one Jiminy Cricket sang at the beginning of Pinocchio – until I stopped crying. I could’ve only been about ten when it started.”

“Lou-“

“No, just let me finish. Please, Harry.”

Harry nods, tears falling from his eyes as he stares at the side of Louis’ face, his chest tight and aching. He wants to reach out so badly, but he doesn’t. He sits on his hands instead and turns to look down the hill like Louis is.

“She had such a terrible voice and it was always shaking. I know she was afraid too and I’ve never hated her for it, but since it started it’s made it hard to look at her sometimes. It was like she thought that by sitting with me after it would take away the pain, but the only way she could’ve done that was for her to leave him. She never did. He’s still there. I haven’t been home in three years, ever since I finished school.”

Harry can’t take it. He reaches out and takes hold of Louis hand, squeezing gently.

“He just, he kept hitting me, sometimes kicked me,” Louis says weakly, his voice cracking. “He left my sisters alone, thank god, and I got used to it. But it doesn’t mean I’ll ever step foot in that house again.”

“Lou,” Harry says, his heart breaking. “I’m so s-“

“Don’t say you’re sorry. That’s what everyone says. Just… don’t _you_ say that. Please.” Louis drops his head forward and covers his face with his spare hand. His shoulders shake and Harry knows he’s crying. It’s silent and Harry can’t help but wonder if that’s something he’s learnt to do.

“Listen to me,” Harry says. “You didn’t deserve this – any of it. You deserve to feel loved. You deserve to feel it everyday. I’d kill that bastard for hurting you if I could, but I can’t, and I don’t think it’d do any good anyway. I don’t want you to hurt anymore, Lou. Tell me what I can do to help, or just… at least let me hug you or something.”

Louis laughs, wiping a hand over his face as he looks up at Harry again. “Will that make you feel better?”

“If it makes you feel better then yeah, I think so.”

Louis sniffles and then shuffles over along the bench until he’s pressed against Harry. Harry wraps an arm around him and smiles when Louis snuggles into him, turning his face into his shoulder.

“How did I find you?”

“In a bookshop, if I remember correctly,” Harry says with a smirk.

Louis smacks a hand against Harry’s chest. “I’m trying to be serious here, Harold. I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything good in life, Louis,” Harry says with a frown. “Your step-dad is a fucking fool for never noticing how amazing you are.”

“Amazing?”

“Yeah. Amazing, wonderful, beautiful, funny, spontaneous, kind, loving, generous… I could go on for days.”

Louis snorts. “Sounds like you’re a little biased.”

“Nope. I’m completely neutral.”

Louis looks up at him, his eyes glimmering in the fading light. Harry’s breath catches.

“Neutral?” Louis says.

“Well, maybe not quite neutral. Just a little above neutral probably.”

Louis laughs and this time it’s a real laugh. It makes Harry smile.

“I guess my problems don’t seem so bad right now.”

“Hey, no,” Louis says with a frown, tugging at the collar of Harry’s jacket. “That’s not what I meant to do. Your problems are just as valid and important and they don’t mean they’re not problems just because you think others are worse. They matter to you, Harry, and they matter to me.”

Harry gives Louis a small smile. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I, um- I think I’ve had enough of this game now though, Lou. Can we stop?”

“We only asked one question, love, but yes we can stop.”

“Good because that wasn’t a fun game.” Harry lets out a heavy breath. “But I’m glad you told me.”

“I’m glad I told you too. I want you to know me, Harry – all of me, even the ugly parts.”

“I want you to know me too, so if you ever have any questions, just ask.”

“Okay. I have one question.”

Harry nods encouragingly.

“Do you get a perm or is your hair naturally that curly?”

Harry pushes him off the bench.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

Going home feels different to the way it did before Christmas. He’s not excited, for one. All he really wants to do since the night at Hampstead Heath is be with Louis. 

They’d taken the long journey back to Louis’ flat that night and curled up together beneath Louis’ duvet, Harry running his fingertips up and down Louis’ spine as Louis had played with his hair. They’d fallen asleep like that, Harry waking up to the feel of Louis curled around his back.

“You look tired, hun,” Harry’s mum says when she picks him up from the train station. “Late night?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

In truth, Harry’s been spending so much time sleeping at Louis’ recently, even before their heart to heart the other day, that when he’d tried to sleep last night it had been almost impossible without the warm, heavy weight beside him. 

He’s barely settled in and had dinner before his phone starts ringing.

“Who’s that?” his mum asks. “Someone special. Is it a boy?”

Harry flushes. “Mum, stop it.”

Turns out, it is a boy. Louis. Jesus, he can’t get away from him for even a moment. Not that he’s complaining.

“I’m just gonna take this upstairs. I won’t be long.”

“Do you want me to pause it?”

“Mum, I don’t even watch Eastenders,” he says before leaving the room.

“Hey, love,” Louis says the moment Harry answers the call. He’s shirtless and leaning back against the wall in bed and it isn’t fair at all of him to do this to Harry.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, course. I just wanted to see your pretty face. I might miss it a little bit.”

Harry blushes. “Lou, you saw me yesterday.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t sleep well last night,” Louis admits quietly.

“Me neither.”

“Kind of got used to having an oaf hogging all the duvet.”

“Hey,” Harry whines. “I don’t do that.”

“No, of course not.” Louis laughs.

“And I’m not an oaf, you’re just a hobbit.”

“Um, excuse me. See if I give you any night time cuddles anymore.”

“You will.”

“Oh will I?”

“Yes,” Harry says, making a pouty face, as if asking for a kiss. “Because you love me.”

“Hm, I don’t know about that. You did just call me a hobbit.”

“Yes, out of love.”

Louis laughs, his eyes crinkling in the corners in the way Harry loves best. “Okay. You’re no Casanova that’s for sure.”

“I think you’ll find I’m charming.”

“Oh in your dreams, Curly.”

“So what have I missed?”

“Since yesterday? Really Harold, what could you possibly have missed?”

“Indulge me,” Harry says, getting into bed and holding his phone sideways. “Just tell me what you’ve been up to. I like listening to your voice.”

Louis’ face seems to immediately soften at that, a fond smile playing at his lips. “Well…”

Harry doesn’t make it back downstairs. Instead he falls asleep, wrapped in his duvet that smells too much like apples and not enough like vanilla, listening to a beautiful boy on the phone, a smile on his face.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

Over the following two weeks at home, Harry finishes writing his last three assignments of the year. He knows he should feel a weight lifting from his shoulders after each one is submitted, but if anything it feels like there is weight being added on. The only thing that calms him down and helps sooth the constant ache is his daily FaceTime calls with Louis. Apparently they’re both shit at being apart for any period of time, despite the fact they’ve only known each other for three months. Still, Harry has always felt like there’s something special between them, that there’s a reason he feels closer to a friend of three months than friends he has known for years.

He’s tried meeting up with his friends from school, since pretty much everyone is home from university for a few weeks before exams, but it’s just not the same. No one gets Harry like Louis does. None of them know how he likes his tea made, or about how he has to have the duvet pulled tightly around his body just right for him to fall asleep, or how he sometimes gets a really bad back and needs to take a warm bath to soothe it. None of them know that _Love Actually_ is his favourite film, or that _The Notebook_ makes him cry every time he watches it, or that pink is his favourite colour, or that he likes to spend evenings painting his toenails pretty pastel colours. They just don’t _know_ him in the same way Louis does. Even his mum can’t seem to quite match the way Louis understands him, anticipates his needs, knows when to hug him that little bit tighter on days that Harry is feeling bad.

He misses him a whole lot.

Louis doesn’t seem to be faring that much better, looking more and more tired each time they talk. Harry can’t tell if Louis is really finding it that hard to fall asleep without him or if there’s something else going on. He’d like to think that Louis would tell him if something was wrong, but he’s not sure. He knows how much Louis keeps locked away.

The final straw comes when Louis calls him drunk and crying one night because he’s lonely and cold and hasn’t eaten a decent meal because he’s gotten so used to Harry doing his food shopping and making his dinner. His mum isn’t particularly happy when he says he’s going back to London a few days early, but when he tells her that his best friend needs him, she practically pushes him out the door. He can’t say he’s offended; all he cares about is getting back to Louis.

 

Louis meets Harry at King’s Cross Station because of course he does. It’s all very dramatic. Harry is walking through the station, bag over his shoulder, when there’s a loud “Harry!” He looks around in confusion before suddenly there’s a Louis pushing businessmen out of his way and throwing himself at him. Harry’s bag falls off his shoulder and onto the floor just as he catches him, laughing as Louis wraps his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist.

“I missed you,” he whispers in Harry’s ear.

Harry has never felt warmer or more whole in his life.

Louis’ platinum blond hair is a mess, as if he's been running his fingers through it all day or not brushed it after waking up. Considering it’s Louis, both seem likely. After all, it is only noon.

“Don’t you have work today?” Harry asks when Louis finally gets down and releases him.

“Nope, I called in sick,” Louis says, beaming.

“Lou, that’s naughty.”

“My favourite boy just got back, I couldn’t go to work!”

Harry tugs Louis forward into his arms again and nuzzles the top of his head, breathing in the coconut of his shampoo. “I missed you too."

“You wanna go home and have a cup of tea in bed?”

Harry doesn’t point out that Louis’ flat isn’t technically his home, he just nods happily and presses a quick kiss to Louis’ temple. “Yeah, lets go.”

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

“Did you know you’ve got an asterism on your cheek?” Harry whispers.

“A what?” Louis laughs. “How high are you?”

“Quite,” Harry says, turning his head to smile at Louis. He takes the blunt from between Louis’ fingertips and takes a drag. “An asterism is a pattern of stars. You’ve got the Summer Triangle on your cheek just here.”

Louis scrunches his nose up when Harry pokes his cheek, but his eyes crinkle in the corners the way they do when he’s happy. Harry counts it as a win.

“Your freckles are lovely, Lou. I love freckles. They’re like tiny stars on your skin.”

Louis falls back on the mattress and stretches his arms above his head. “I have them on my shoulders too. My ex used to make fun of them.”

“Then he’s an idiot. Will you show me?”

“You want to see my shoulder freckles,” Louis deadpans.

“Please, Lou.”

“God, you’re weird,” Louis says, but he sits up and pulls his shirt over his head anyway. He never says no to Harry.

Harry passes off the blunt to Louis and shuffles over on the bed until he’s kneeling behind him. Louis shivers at the first touch of Harry’s cold fingertips tracing over the little marks on his skin and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Harry can see the goose bumps on his arms, the fine hairs standing up. He brushes his fingertips across the span of Louis shoulders, tracing aimless patterns, before his hands move lower. Louis’ head drops down, his chin to his chest, at the feel of warm friction.

“Does that feel good?” Harry whispers.

Louis hums, breathing deeply when Harry starts massaging his shoulders.

“You should know that you’re really beautiful to me, Louis.”

“I think you’ve had enough weed now, Harold.”

“No, ‘m being serious. You are. You’re so beautiful.”

Louis shakes his head. “Don’t.”

Harry leans forward and wraps his arms around Louis, his chest to Louis’ bare back. “I won’t say it again, but I just want you to know that that’s how I see you.”

Louis clutches at Harry’s forearms and leans back into him. “There’s probably something wrong with you, but thank you anyway.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be here to tell you whenever you forget,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to Louis’ temple. He doesn’t know why he does it, and he would have apologised if Louis hadn’t leaned into it with a sigh.

“Do you want more weed? I can roll another.”

“No, I’m good right here,” Harry says.

“Me too.”

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

Harry is lying on his back on Louis’ mattress with his eyes closed when Louis walks into the bedroom and throws open the curtains.

“Right, get up!”

“G’way,” Harry mumbles.

“What?”

“Go away.”

“Oh shut it, grumpy. You need to stop moping. These exams aren’t just going to disappear and frankly I’m bored of staying here and watching you try to study. We’re going out.”

“Lou, I _need_ to study.”

“Yeah and you can. Pack your books, we’re going to the park and I’m going to test you.”

“Which park?” Harry asks, leaning up on his elbows to watch Louis pulling on his jeans shorts and a red tank top.

“Hampstead Heath, duh.”

“That’s a long way to go, Louis.”

“Will you stop whinging? I’m gonna slap you in a minute.”

“You would never.” Harry smirks.

Louis puts his hands on his hips and glares down at Harry. “No, but that doesn’t mean you get to take advantage.”

“All right, mum. I’ll get dressed.”

“You’re gonna be hot in those leggings.”

“They’re _jeans,”_ Harry yells as Louis walks out the room.

 

“This was a great idea,” Louis says, stretching his arms over his head. They’ve laid one of Louis’ blankets on the grass and have spent the past hour lying in the sun. “I feel so much better already.”

“It’s not my fault you decided to stay inside with me all week.”

“You get distracted when I leave.”

“Louis, my main distraction is _you._ I’d probably get loads done if you weren’t around.”

“I think you’ll find, Harold, that it’s my flat and that you actually have your own place to live if you need to be alone.”

Harry pouts. “I don’t like my flat anymore. Zayn practically lives with Liam now anyway.”

“Yeah because you abandoned him.”

“No I didn’t. We still talk everyday and he comes into Starbucks all the time.”

“Hm. Do you think anything is going on between Liam and Zayn?” Louis asks.

“What?”

“I don’t know. Niall just said something the other day.”

“Niall’s been hanging out with them?”

“Yeah. Quite a lot actually.”

“Maybe we should meet up, all five of us.”

Louis turns his head to look at Harry with a soft smile on his face. “That’d be nice.”

“We could go to the Adventure Bar in Covent Garden. I went there at the beginning of the year for some group social for one of the clubs at King’s.”

“Yeah if you like, babe.”

Harry looks down at the textbook in front of him and groans, pushing himself up and shuffles over until he can rest his head on Louis’ bare chest.

“You all right, love?” Louis asks, running his fingers through his hair, separating and untangling the curls. “Tired of studying?”

“Yeah, ‘m so tired, Lou. Just so, so tired.”

“I know,” Louis says, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s head.

Harry stares straight ahead and smiles when he notices a small cluster of daisies in the grass. “Do you know what would be fun?”

“What?”

“Daisy chains.”

Louis laughs, jostling Harry from his resting place. “You want to make daisy chains.”

“Yeah. We could make me a flower crown.”

“Okay. Harold Edward Styles, prince of the flowers and the fairies.”

“Why aren’t I the king?” Harry pouts.

“Because I’m the king.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Of course you are.”

“So you’ve got to make me a crown too.”

Harry grins. “You’ll really make them with me?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because it’s silly and it’s girly.”

“It’s not silly if you enjoy it, and who cares if it’s girly? What even is girly anyway? It’s so fucked up that people can’t do what they want just because they feel pressured to conform to gender roles and societal norms. You want to make us flower crowns and that’s fine. Okay, love? Never feel silly over something like that, and you never have to be embarrassed to ask me anything. Yeah?”

Harry pulls Louis into a hug, pressing his face into his neck to breathe in his scent. “I like you a lot a lot.”

Louis laughs, wrapping his arms securely around Harry. “I like you a lot a lot too.”

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

“Long time, no see, strangers!” Liam says when Harry and Louis enter the bar.

“Yeah, where the feck have you been you bastards?” Niall yells, the patrons on nearby tables turning to look at them.

“Harold here has exams, mate. I’ve been sharing my wisdom with him!” Louis says, patting Harry’s chest as they sit down on their stalls.

Harry laughs. “By that he means that he sometimes makes me a cup of tea and that he kicks me until I pay attention to him.”

“He’s exaggerating,” Louis says.

“We’ve all been studying,” Zayn says. “I didn’t realize that meant you dropping off the face of the Earth.”

“Oi,” Louis says, pointing at Zayn. “We’ve seen you twice already this week.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “It’s not the same. Me and Harry are meant to be living together.”

“You’re never there either. I stayed in the flat on Monday and you weren’t there,” Harry says.

“I was at Liam’s.” Zayn huffs.

“All right then,” Niall says loudly, clapping his hands. “Shots!”

 

A couple of hours later, Harry is smiling dopily with his head on Louis shoulder, sighing every time Louis rubs his back. He’s nicely drunk: enough to let his inhibitions go a little, but not enough to do anything stupid. Louis, as usual, hasn’t drunk anything other than coke.

“…and this girl, Angelina, she was just all over me,” Niall says, cackling. “So I told her I wanted her. I said, “Angelina, I want you, I really want you,” and then she laughed and walked away! Turns out she had a boyfriend. He was a big bloke, really made me leg it outta there, let me tell ya.”

Harry giggles, nuzzling into Louis’ chest after Louis has pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Oi, mates,” Niall says, pointing at Harry and Louis now. “When did you two get together?”

“We’re not,” Louis says. Harry can feel the vibrations against his ear and they seem to go straight through him, along with the heavy feeling in his chest.

“You sure? You look it.”

“We’re not,” Harry confirms, despite the fact it hurts. He knows now, beyond a doubt, that he wants that with Louis. The way he feels is more than friendship, more than anything he’s ever felt before. He doesn’t know how to describe it. All he knows is that he _wants_ and it’s fucking terrifying.

Niall turns his attention away from them and starts gesticulating wildly at Zayn and Liam. Harry’s heart lurches when he feels Louis’ arm come around him and pull him closer, his lips pressing to his temple.

“You okay?” Louis whispers.

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist. “I dunno. It’s just weird being asked about that.”

“Why?”

“I dunno.”

“Do you want to be?”

Harry swallows thickly. “Want to be what?”

“Together.”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“I don’t know.”

Harry looks up at Louis, his breath catching at how close they are. He can see the blue of Louis’ eyes clearly, every fleck of silver, every constellation, his pupils large. “Do we have to call it anything? Can’t we just be Harry and Lou?”

Louis laughs quietly, a huge smile on his face. “Yeah, babe. I’d love that.”

“Oi, lovebirds!” Niall shouts. “Who tops: Zayn or Liam?”

“Liam,” Harry and Louis both say at the same time.

“Oh fuck off,” Zayn mutters at the same time as Liam and Niall burst into laughter.

Louis kisses Harry’s forehead, giggling against him. It’s a good night.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

“Hey, Michael,” Harry says to Louis’ boss. “Where’s Louis? Is he in the back?”

Michael frowns at him. “Uh, no. Louis called in sick this morning.”

“Oh, right.”

“I would’ve thought you’d know that.”

“Well, actually I haven’t heard from him since last night and he didn’t sound great. Thanks for letting me know.”

Michael nods to him and Harry stumbles out of the bookshop in confusion.

**Harry: Where are you? I’m worried**

Harry chews on a hangnail as he walks towards Covent Garden Market, desperately hoping Louis will text him back. He’d definitely said he was going to work when he left this morning. Harry has no idea what’s going on and it’s scaring him. He sighs with relief when his phone buzzes in his hand and he almost drops it in his attempt to quickly open the message.

**Louis :) : Hampstead Heath. On our bench.**

**Harry: Everything okay?**

**Louis :) : No**

**Harry: I’ll be there as soon as I can**

Thanks to a number of traffic disturbances, it’s almost dark by the time Harry gets there. He notices Louis sat down, his head tipped back to look up at the brightening stars. Harry stays where he is for a moment, enraptured by the beauty of the boy he’s falling head over heels in love with, a boy that Harry knows right now is not okay. He knows he should make his presence known, but Louis seems so lost inside himself that Harry feels wrong to interrupt. What’s unfolding, he notices as he gets closer, is heart breaking. Harry can hear his high voice singing _When You Wish Upon a Star,_ his voice breaking on every few words.

“Lou,” Harry whispers, crouching down in front of Louis and placing his hands lightly on his knees. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Louis jolts as a sob wracks through his body, the sound loud and awful in the quiet of the evening. Harry’s heart hurts to see him this way.

Harry gets up and sits beside Louis, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. “I’m here.”

Louis takes a few shuddering breaths and then seems to settle, his head resting on Harry’s shoulder.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? You didn’t go to work.”

“I was on my way there and then my mum called. I wasn’t going to answer, but then I thought, _she never calls._ I thought, _there must be something wrong,”_ Louis whispers.

“Was there?”

“No. My step-dad left. He’s gone,” Louis says emotionlessly.

“How do you feel, Lou?”

“I don’t know. I’m- well I’m happy because now I don’t have to worry about my mum or the girls, but it’s just dredged up so much stuff and I couldn’t face going to work. I needed some time to myself to think. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“Hey, no,” Harry says, squeezing Louis tightly when he notices him shaking.

“I’ve been afraid for years, Harry. Even after I moved out. I just kept waiting for him to show up on my doorstep one day and give me the battering of my life.”

“Do you feel safer now?”

“No,” Louis whimpers. “That’s the thing. I don’t know where he is now. He could be anywhere. At least when he was at home I knew where he was. I know how terrible that is, that I’d rather my family be in danger just so I’d stay safe. I’m terrible.”

“Hey,” Harry says softly, hooking a finger beneath Louis’ chin and lifting until Louis is looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “It’s not terrible, Lou. You were abused for years, baby. It’s okay to be frightened. You didn’t want your family to be hurt; you knew he wouldn’t hurt them. It’s okay to put yourself first.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Louis says, his bottom lip quivering.

“I’ve already told you, Lou. You deserve everything good.”

“And I told you you’re biased. You said you were neutral.”

“Well, I was lying.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Harry says, reaching up to brush the back of his fingers down Louis’ cheek, “I feel everything for you, Lou.”

Louis blinks slowly, his eyelids heavy, his pupils large, his long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. Then he pushes himself up until his lips are hovering below Harry’s, his eyes closing. “Kiss me, Harry. Please.”

So he does. He leans down to close the tiny gap between them, cradling Louis’ face in his hand. Louis whimpers into the kiss, clutching desperately at Harry’s jacket as if he’s scared that he’s going to be taken away from him. His lips are just as soft as Harry imagined and everything about the kiss is pleasure in its purest form. It’s not frantic like Harry thought it might be, but soft, gentle, and languid. It’s perfect.

Louis sighs as he pulls back and tucks his head beneath Harry’s chin. “I like you so much, Harry. It scares me sometimes.”

“I know. Me too,” Harry says, rubbing Louis’ back in large circles.

 

It’s late by the time they get back to Louis’ flat. They’re both tired, Louis understandably more so than Harry. They change into pyjamas silently and then Louis presses himself against Harry’s front, kisses along the column of Harry’s neck.

“You smell good,” Louis says quietly. “You smell like home.”

Harry smiles widely and holds Louis against him. “I’ve always loved how you smell, ever since we met. It’s like vanilla and strawberries. Gorgeous.”

Louis hums happily, drawing a heart on Harry’s pectoral with a fingertip.

“How about I go and make us a cup of tea and you pick something for us to watch on Netflix? Hm?” Harry says.

“Something soppy and romantic?”

“Sounds perfect.”

And it is perfect when Harry walks back into the bedroom, the candles casting a warm glow over the room, Louis sat under the duvet with his laptop on the end of the bed. Harry sits beside him and hands him his cup of tea with a light kiss to his lips. They both smile at each other, dusty pink blushes to their cheeks, and giggle as they settle down.

“So what’ve you chosen?” Harry asks.

“ _Love Actually_ ,” Louis replies.

“Lou, you didn’t have to pick it just because it’s my favourite.”

“I know,” Louis says, shrugging, “but you’re my favourite, so…”

Harry places his tea down, then takes Louis’ and does the same, before pulling Louis close and pressing their mouths together in a sweet kiss that tastes like Yorkshire Tea and something so good it can only be Louis.

“You’re incredible,” Harry whispers against his lips.

“So are you,” Louis says, tugging Harry until he’s lying on top of him. “You feel amazing.”

Harry dips down to kiss him again, shivering when Louis’ nails drag lightly down his back. He pulls back after a minute when he feels Louis’ lips beginning to go slack against his. “Do you wanna sleep, Lou?”

“Mhm.” Louis sighs.

“Okay, baby,” Harry says, moving the laptop from the mattress and arranging the duvet and blanket around them properly.

Louis curls around him, tangling their ankles together and wrapping his arm around his waist. “Kiss me one more time before I fall asleep.”

“Just once?” Harry whispers, brushing his nose lightly against Louis’.

“Maybe twice.”

Harry laughs and presses two long, gentle kisses to Louis’ lips and then one to his forehead.

“I want to keep you,” Louis says quietly as he tucks his head beneath Harry’s chin. “Please.”

“I’m all yours, Lou.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

Harry wakes up smiling, his eyes immediately falling on Louis’ face a couple of inches away from his own. He reaches out and brushes his blond hair out of his face, the strands soft and silky between his fingers.

“Morning,” Louis says, his eyes fluttering open.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Harry replies.

Louis hums, reaching behind Harry’s head to pull him closer until their lips brush. They simply breathe against each other for a moment, both screwing their faces up slightly at the smell of morning breath, but then Louis pushes forward and suddenly they’re kissing. Its warm and wet, Louis pressing his tongue forward into Harry’s mouth as he rolls on top of him and cages him in with his thighs. Harry lets out a heavy breath, his hands sliding up Louis’ legs until they’re cradling his hips.

“Never wanted anyone the way I want you,” Louis whispers. “Do you know that? Do you know how much I want you?”

Harry shakes his head, his breathing quick. “Tell me.”

Louis sits upright and smirks down at Harry before grinding down _hard_. Harry can’t help the low moan he releases, his eyes scrunching closed. “I think about you all the time. I can’t help it,” Louis says as he continues grinding, beginning to gasp alongside Harry on every roll of his hips. “You’re the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing before I go to sleep. I can’t get your stupid, beautiful face out of my head. I even dream about you. Sometimes I wake up hard against your back in the middle of the night and I have to run to the bathroom to have a cold shower. You’ve got no idea how hot you are, how fucking gorgeous.”

Gripping Louis’ ass in both hands, Harry pulls him down harder, both of them moaning as their cocks rub together through the material of their pyjama bottoms.

“I think about you too,” Harry gasps. “Always. You’re everything, Lou. Everything.”

“Oh god, come here,” Louis says, tugging at Harry’s shoulders until he’s sat up, their chests pressed together. “Clothes. I- I want them off.”

Harry nods, pulling first his and then Louis’ t-shirts off until the bare skin of their torsos are brushing. Harry presses his mouth to Louis’ neck and starts sucking and biting at the skin there, basking in the small, high-pitched sounds of pleasure that fall from Louis’ lips. His hands smooth up Louis’ sides, his thumbs dragging up until they reach his nipples. He taps his left nipple – the one with a piercing – and asks, “Can I play with this?”

“Yes,” Louis gasps. “Yes, please.”

Harry tugs and twists and flicks at the nipple, grinning up at a slack-faced Louis, pleased beyond measure that he can make Louis feel good from such simple touches. It doesn’t take long before Louis is taking the reins again though, pushing Harry down onto his back and climbing between Harry’s legs, spreading them eagerly so he can fit perfectly between them.

“I wanna make you feel good,” Louis says, reaching a hand between them until he’s palming at Harry’s cock, making him twist and writhe on the mattress.

“You are,” Harry gasps, raking his blunt nails down the expanse of Louis’ back, no doubt creating welts.

“Can I take these off?” Louis asks, tugging on the waistband of his bottoms and his boxers. “Both. Please. I wanna see, love. I wanna see how pretty you are for me.”

Harry moans, his back arching up off the mattress as Louis presses his hand down particularly hard against his dick. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Louis kneels back until he can pull the clothing down Harry’s legs, his eyes fixated when Harry’s hard cock slaps back against his stomach. Harry scrunches his eyes closed, his head tipped back as he tries to breathe through the feeling of cool air against his sensitive skin, through the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. He doesn’t want to worry. He wants to have sex. He can’t help but think about the first time he tried it though. He can’t help but flinch slightly at the light touch of Louis’ hand on his leg.

“Hey,” he hears Louis whisper.

He opens his eyes to see Louis pulling his own clothes off, climbing back over Harry’s body and lowering down on top of him until their naked bodies are pressed together. Harry wraps his arms and legs around him, holding him close.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re shaking, babe.”

“I know,” Harry says, voice unsteady.

“What’s wrong? You wanna stop? We can stop and cuddle instead. We don’t have to do anything.”

“No, I want to. I just- I’ve only gone all the way once and it wasn’t nice. I didn’t like it.”

“What didn’t you like?”

Harry blushes, turning his head so he doesn’t have to look at Louis.

“Hey, no,” Louis coos, carefully turning Harry’s head until he can catch his eyes again. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“It hurt,” Harry whispers. “It hurt and then he came before I was even hard.”

“Oh, love,” Louis says, leaning down to kiss him softly as he scratches at the nape of his neck to calm him down.

“How about today I just blow you? We’ve got all the time in the world, and when you think you’re ready, I promise I’ll make it good for you.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Harry, I will never be mad at you for not being ready or not wanting to do something. It’s not fun for me if it’s not fun for you. Anyone who says or thinks otherwise is an arsehole. Consent is sexy.”

Harry takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, please.”

Louis kisses him again, slower this time, more methodical. It’s as if he’s been planning exactly how he wants to do this and is finally putting it into practice. It’s so good it makes Harry’s toes curls, one particular flick of his tongue making him shiver and sink further into the mattress.

Louis makes a pretty pattern of lovebites down from Harry’s throat to his collarbones, biting down gently until Harry begins to whimper, begging Louis to keep going.

“I’ll give you anything you want,” Louis whispers against Harry’s chest, “anything at all. All you’ve got to do is ask, love.”

“What if I ask for the moon?” Harry asks, his voice breaking off into a gasp at the end when Louis nibbles at the laurels on his hips.

“Then I’ll get you the moon and gather the stars for you on the way down.”

Harry bends his knees and places his feet on the mattress when Louis reaches his cock, shivering hard when Louis blows cold air over the head of his cock.

“You’re so pretty, babe,” Louis says as he presses soft, reverent kisses up and down Harry’s length. “So, so pretty for me.”

Harry sighs, his head dropping back as he tangles his fingers in Louis’ messy hair. “Only for you.”

Louis moans and licks a stripe up Harry’s cock before suddenly sinking halfway down, making Harry yell out in surprise.

“Is this okay?” Louis asks after he’s popped off.

“Yeah,” Harry whimpers. “Please, Lou.”

After that, Louis makes it his mission to get Harry off as spectacularly as possible. He bobs his head up and down, alternating between that and teasing the head with his tongue. He never falls into a rhythm, making it almost impossible for Harry to keep himself together, constantly being surprised by a new sensation, his body lighting up with a pleasure that zaps up his spine and makes him arch away from the mattress.

Harry begins to get restless quickly, his hips jumping up until Louis has to throw an arm over them to hold him down. When Harry looks down he notices Louis’ other hand working himself over, his fist pumping his cock desperately with the slick sound of skin on skin. Harry moans loudly at the sight before falling back again, his legs wrapping around Louis’ shoulders and his hands tugging at his own hair as the heat in his stomach reaches an inferno. Louis groans with Harry’s dick in his mouth and the vibrations send Harry tumbling over the edge into oblivion, white flashing behind his eyelids as he comes hard down the back of Louis’ throat.

He’s still coming down from his high, completely blissed out, when he hears Louis come with a grunt of Harry’s name. He reaches out blindly until Louis crawls up the bed and falls into his arms, the wet come on Louis’ stomach smearing onto his own. He can’t be bothered to care though, not when he’s so warm and sated with Louis wrapped in his arms.

They don’t talk, both of them beginning to drift off when Harry hears Louis whisper a soft, “I think I might be in love with you.”

Harry’s eyes flutter open and his mouth curves into a brilliant smile. “What was that?”

Louis pushes himself up, his hair in wild disarray, and says simply, “I’m in love with you.”

“You think or you know?”

Louis swats at Harry’s chest half-heartedly. “Of course I know.”

“Well, cause you said-“

Louis quiets him with a kiss, his tongue making a quick sweep of the inside of Harry’s mouth before he pulls back again. “I know I’m in love with you. Sometimes it feels like I always have been.”

“I love you too,” Harry says.

Louis smiles and Harry swears it’s as bright as the sun.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

Louis calls his mum. He says it’s nothing, that it’s no big deal, it’s only a phone call.

Harry disagrees. He thinks it _is_ important. It means something. It’s called progress.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

A week later, with Louis sat outside, Harry goes into one of the offices at the university campus and sits down to discuss a change in his course. He comes back out with a wide smile on his face and a booklet of information about the English Literature course for the upcoming academic year. Although it’s of a different kind, that’s called progress too.

 

ﾟ*･✧°･ﾟ*･

 

“Are you ready?” Harry asks softly, squeezing Louis’ hand as they stand outside the small house on a dreary day in Doncaster.

“Yes,” Louis says, squeezing back.

Harry watches as Louis rings the bell before stepping back and leaning into Harry’s side. They both stand with bated breath, just waiting for the door to open, and then it does. A middle aged woman with light brown hair and Louis’ beautiful blue eyes opens the door, her face going from shock, to pure happiness, to crumpling with the start of tears.

“You came home,” she says, rushing forward and pulling Louis into her arms.

“Yeah, mum,” Harry hears his boyfriend say, voice wobbling. “I’m home.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/JustLikeTomo)
> 
> I'm thinking about writing a sequel, so let me know if that's something you're interested in.


End file.
